“That gleam in his eyes,” Denise said.
“What gleam?” Paige asked, turning to her mom.
“The one he gets when he’s looking at you. It’s something that goes way beyond sex.”
“Well, he
is
a nice young man,” Paige said mockingly.
“Yes, he is.” Denise nodded, taking a sip of her wine.
Paige turned back around to her dresser. She riffled through her drawer, looking for this supposed ugly underwear that would keep her grounded, but she didn’t own any. Along with shoes, another one of her vices was fun panties. What was the point in buying anything ugly?
She grabbed a fairly tame pair with yellow and white stripes. Stripes didn’t scream “I’m going to have sex tonight,” at least not like black or red lace would have. She could’ve sworn she’d read that stripes were unflattering on most people.
She dug around in the drawer and found her strapless bra. She grabbed her clothes from the bed and went into the bathroom.
“So where is he taking you?” her mother asked through the door.
“To Caliente’s, and then we’re going to Shep’s bar,” Paige said as she hung her towel on the back of the door and started to get dressed. “Are you and dad still going to go to the baseball game tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to go with you guys and then leave with Brendan. They’re doing a cookout at Shep’s house,” Paige said as she struggled into her skinny jeans.
“Oh, that’ll be fun. His friends are nice?” Denise asked.
“Yeah.”
“So the whole town doesn’t have it out against you?”
“It would seem that isn’t the case,” Paige said as she pulled her shirt over her head.
“So you don’t hate it as much down here anymore?”
“No. It’s a lot better now,” Paige said, opening the door.
“You look beautiful.” Denise smiled.
“Are you sure it isn’t too much?” Paige asked, fidgeting with the sleeves on her shirt.
“No, not at all. What are you doing with your hair?”
“I was just going to wear it down,” Paige said, pulling the clip out of her hair and flipping her head over. She fluffed her messy curls with her fingertips and flipped her head back.
“I wish I had your hair,” Denise said ruefully as she ran her fingers through her own straight bob. “Those curls of yours are just so beautiful.”
“So is your hair, Mom,” Paige said as she walked over to her mother and kissed her on the forehead. “Thanks for helping me get ready.”
“Paige,” Denise said, grabbing her hand before she moved away. “I know the circumstances that got you here weren’t the best. And I know you’ve had a rough couple of months, but I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you, Little Miss.”
“Thanks mom.” Paige tightened her hand around her mother’s.
“I’m also happy you’re smiling again.”
The doorbell rang and Denise squeezed Paige’s hand twice before she let go. A fresh wave of nerves ran through Paige’s stomach and she took a deep breath trying to steady herself. She shouldn’t be nervous. She’d dated before. This was nothing new or different. Except with Brendan everything was new and different.
“Wear those dangly black earrings,” Denise said, standing up. “No necklace.”
Paige heard her father answer the door and a second later his and Brendan’s voices echoed down the hallway.
Paige went to her dresser and found the black earrings, sticking them into her ears. She put on a couple of rings and then slipped her shoes on. She stood in front of her mother and waited for the final verdict.
“Perfect,” her mother said, scooping Paige’s purse off the bed and handing it to her.
Paige followed her mom out the door and down the hallway. As they rounded the corner, she saw Brendan and her father laughing. When Brendan saw her, his laugh died and he took a deep breath as he stared at her. His eyes traveled down the length of her body and then back up again to her eyes.
He didn’t look half bad himself in a light gray polo and faded jeans that hugged his thighs and, she suspected, his very nice butt.
“Well, you two have fun,” Denise said and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss Paige on the cheek. “And no sex,” she whispered to Paige.
“Oh God.” Paige’s cheeks immediately started flaming. Her mother was talking about sex with Brendan while he was less than four feet away. Paige just couldn’t handle it. “You ready?” she asked, looking at Brendan with pleading eyes.
“Yeah. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Morrison. You two have a good night.”
“You too, but just not
too
good of a night,” Trevor said.
“Oh jeez. Bye, Daddy,” Paige said kissing her father on the cheek before she shoved Brendan out the front door.
* * *
Paige was incredibly flustered as Brendan walked her out to his truck. Truth be told, so was he. She was wearing the tightest pair of jeans he’d ever seen, a red shirt that exposed her freckled shoulders and hugged her very nice curves, and those black wedges that drove him out of his mind. When he’d seen her, all of the blood had drained from his head and gone south.
“What did your mom say to you?” he asked, helping her into his truck.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said as her cheeks flamed again.
“Oh come on,” he said, holding onto the door as she settled in the seat. “She said something to get you all flustered.”
“I’m not flustered,” she said, her voice going up an octave.
“You’re a bad liar,” he said, shutting the door.
When he got into his side of the truck, he shut the door and slid to the middle, pressing Paige up against the back of her seat. She gasped right before he covered her mouth with his. Her hands fisted in his shirt. God, he loved it when she did that.
“You look beautiful,” he said against her lips.
“So do you,” she said, dazed.
“I look beautiful?” he asked, pulling back to look at her face.
“Yes. You, Brendan King, look beautiful.”
“Aw, Paige, you’re going to make me blush.” He grinned.
“I don’t think I could make you blush if I tried.”
“Oh, I disagree with you there,” he said, shaking his head as he came in for another kiss.
After a couple more minutes, he retreated to his side of the car.
“You’re dangerous,” he said, shaking his head as he put his truck into gear.
“I’m dangerous?” she asked. “You started it.”
“I suppose I did.” Brendan smiled. “So how was your first entire week of work? Any more interesting encounters?”
“No. Verna’s pretty much ignored me since she yelled at me last week.”
“What about Missy?”
“Every time I go downstairs, she heads me off in the hallway. She wants me to run everything by her before I run it by Mr. Adams.
It’s a way to be more efficient
,” she said, imitating Missy’s thick southern drawl.
“You do that pretty well.” He laughed.
“Why, thank you,”
she said, still sounding like Missy.
“But seriously, watch out for her,” Brendan said. “My mother grew up with her and she can be nasty.”
“Aww, are you worried about me, Mr. King?” she asked playfully.
“Yes,” he said, looking over at her.
Something in her eyes flickered as he held her gaze but she didn’t break eye contact.
“Well, thank you,” she said softly and smiled.
Instinctively, he let go of the steering wheel with his right hand and grabbed hers, lacing his fingers through hers.
* * *
Almost every single guy stared at Paige as they walked through Caliente’s. Brendan had his hand at the small of her back to make sure that all of those wondering eyes understood that she was off the market. He let go only when he went to help her into her chair.
“What would you like to drink?” the waiter asked as he handed them menus.
“I’d like a margarita,” Paige said. “Frozen with extra salt.”
“Make that two,” Brendan said holding up two fingers.
“So what’s good?” Paige asked as she opened her menu and stared down.
“Everything. What are you in the mood for?” he asked, watching her.
“I haven’t had enchiladas in forever, but the steak fajitas sound amazing.”
“Let’s get both and share.”
“Really?” she asked, looking up at him, genuine shock on her face.
“I don’t mind sharing with you.” He’d had his tongue down her throat on multiple occasions. Sharing food wasn’t that big of a deal.
The waiter came over a second later and gave them their margaritas, a bowl of golden-yellow tortilla chips, and salsa. Brendan handed him the menus and gave him their order.
“So,” he said, looking at Paige, “you going to tell me what your mom said to you?”
“Nope,” she said, grabbing her margarita. Her tongue darted out onto the rim of the glass, grabbing some of the salt before she took a sip of the lime green slush.
“Aww, come on,” he said, still watching her mouth in fascination.
“Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“You know, Paige, starting off a relationship with secrets is never a good thing.”
“If I told you everything,” she said, grabbing a chip and breaking it in half, “there would be no mystery.” She dipped her chip into the salsa and scooped some up, bringing it to her mouth. “And where would the fun be in that?” she asked after she swallowed.
She was going to torture him throughout the entire dinner. There was no way he was going to survive it. He reached out and grabbed his drink, desperately needing something to cool himself down with. It would’ve been more effective if he just poured the drink directly onto his lap.
* * *
Dylan had never shared food with Paige. He would horde his plate on his side of the table and if she asked for a bite he would get annoyed with her.
“If you wanted this, why didn’t you just order it?”
he would always ask.
But Brendan had no problem with it.
They ate their way through both plates and a second margarita each. All the while, Brendan told her about playing baseball in high school and about the team he played on now.
“So you’ve always played with Jax and Shep?” she asked, chasing some enchilada sauce around her plate with a chip.
“Yup, since we were five.”
“Wow. That’s crazy.”
“What about you? Did you ever play any sports?”
“Cross-country. But that isn’t really a team sport.”
“Oh yeah. You and those long legs of yours,” he said, grinning at her. “You must have left everyone else in your dust.”
“Sometimes.”
“You’d leave me in the dust.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen you running around town before. You and those crazy shorts of yours,” he said, finishing his drink.
“What’s so crazy about my shorts?” she asked.
“Would you like to discuss length or color? Because both are fascinating topics.”
“They aren’t
that
short.”
“Right.”
“They aren’t,” she said, indignant. “They just look short because I have long legs.”
“Hmm,” he said, leaning back in his chair so he could see her legs under the table. “I might need to see said shorts on you again. I observed you from a distance. Maybe upon closer inspection I’d come to a different conclusion.”
The waiter came back with Brendan’s credit card. He signed the receipt and stood up, shoving his wallet into his back pocket.
“You ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.
“Yes,” she said, putting her hand in his and letting him pull her up next to him.
He laced his fingers with hers again, and just like it had in the car, it sent a thrill of excitement through her.
* * *
The Sleepy Sheep was a landmark in Mirabelle. Shep’s grandparents had built it when they’d moved down about sixty-five years ago. It looked like a Scottish pub and the locals and tourists loved it. There were large, pained windows on either side of the front door and a hanging sign above the door that swayed in the warm beach breeze. It read T
HE
S
LEEPY
S
HEEP
in big green letters, and two sheep slept in the corner,
Z
s trailing above their heads.
“This looks like fun,” Paige said as they walked inside.
The same dark wood that was outside also covered the walls, floors, and ceiling on the inside. There were framed cartoon pictures of drunken sheep everywhere, and all of the other wall space was covered in signed dollar bills. The bar took up the entire back wall, while booths were lined up on the walls to the left. There were dozens of tables surrounded by chairs scattered all over the floor. To the right, there were two pool tables and a dartboard. There was a stage in the far corner where a live band played sometimes. But tonight, music blared from the jukebox.